


More Than One Type of Hero

by sirriamnis



Category: Captain America, MCU, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Heroes, M/M, Mushy, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Canon Compliant, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 09:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14041494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirriamnis/pseuds/sirriamnis
Summary: Seventy-some years ago, on a mission into the Lorraine region of France, Captain Rogers and the Howling Commandos are investigating rumors that the Duc is a collaborator with the Nazis.  They find the Duc's younger brother using his brother's notoriety to protect several dozen Jewish children and the children of Resistance fighters.Steve sees a picture of the younger brother, now Duc and now 100 years old, and flies to France.





	More Than One Type of Hero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elven1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elven1/gifts).



When Steve got up, a newspaper sat on the coffee table of his apartment, and the coffee pot had been run. He sighed, shaking his head.

  
“Nat.” He wandered over to the coffee table to pick up the newspaper, and his eyes widened. A color picture sat above the fold, with the caption “Duke Lorraine on his 100th birthday with the descendants of the children he saved from the Nazis.” Steve sat hard on the couch, staring. He blinked back tears, and then leapt up to get dressed.

 

“Tony, I need to get to France right now.” Steve walked into the lab without waiting for Friday to announce him. “I need, don’t ask. But I need to leave now.”

  
“Sure thing, Otterpop. The jet’s fueled up and ready to go at LaGuardia. Just tell ‘em where you need to go.” Tony flipped up his welding mask. “Revisiting old memories?”

  
“Something like that.” Steve ran from the lab and went to his room to pack, grabbing the newspaper.

  
In one of the infinite fleet of sleek black cars Stark ferried people around in, Steve read the full article on the way to the airport.

  
“Where we heading, Cap?” The pilot shook his hand.

  
“Paris.” Steve hoisted his dufflebag into one of the stowage compartments, and sat in one of the seats, drumming his fingers on the table top.

  
“Anything to drink or eat, Captain?” The stewardess smiled, standing next to the table.

  
“Uh, yeah, actually. I forgot to eat breakfast. Um, coffee and whatever you have.” He took a deep breath.

  
“We have a fully stocked kitchen, and a supplemental delivery arrived to make sure we could accommodate your metabolism. Will omelets, bacon, ham and hash browns suffice?”

  
“Yes, thank you.” Steve exhaled and pulled the newspaper out of his jacket again. Much, much older, but the nose and the jaw were still recognizable. He smiled and touched the photograph with his fingertips. “I hope this isn’t a bad idea.”

 

* * *

 

Steve and the rest of the Commandos crept toward the Chateau. Official word was that the Duc de Lorraine collaborated with the Nazis, but the locals told a different story. The Chateau supposedly sheltered the children of the Jewish and Resistance families of the region. After a hurried discussion it was decided Steve would walk up the road to the gates. When Steve approached the gates, alone, they opened and a slender young man walked out to meet him, wearing sturdy hiking boots and very good quality clothing, he stopped when Steve did, leaving them some 6 feet apart.

  
“Duc de Lorraine?” Steve mangled the pronunciation.

  
“No, that is my brother. I am Jacques Herbert, the younger son.” He smiled at Steve. “You and your men are welcome, Captain. Please, come inside.” He had dark brown hair, and blue eyes, a strong nose and jawline. In his hiking clothes, he looked very fit. Steve’s eyes drifted over his body.

  
“Yeah, all right, thank you.” Steve signaled to the Commandos and they filtered out from the woods surrounding the chateau.  

As soon as they had entered and the gates closed, they were mobbed by children. Jacques stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest smiling, as the children clamored to touch Steve’s shield, his uniform. Jones kept up a running translation as the children cried “Capitan des Etats Unis!” Steve nodded to Bucky, who unslung his pack, and started doling out chocolate bars. He’d won most of them from an American unit they’d bivouacked with a few days ago.

  
“Jones, tell them there aren’t enough for everyone to have one, but if they divide them up they should all get a little.” Steve said, watching the children. They seemed well-fed, in good shape, pale, but he supposed the younger de Lorraine kept them inside and hidden most of the time to protect them. He looked up at Jacques, who kept smiling watching the children squeal with delight as they got chocolate and babbled about meeting Captain America. After a moment, he caught Steve’s eye, nodded, and walked over.

  
“Thank you for bringing them hope.” Jaques scooped up a tiny girl clamoring at his side. She tried to feed him her chocolate. He took a tiny bite off a corner, and then told her, Steve presumed, to eat the rest herself. She did, giggling.

  
“You’ve taken good care of them.” Steve fought the urge to kiss a smear of chocolate from the other man’s lips.

  
“It is the least I can do.” Jacques looked around the courtyard again. “I taught them in the village, used my part of the inheritance to set up trusts so that any who want to go University can. And then this.” He shook his head. “My brother is the Duc in name only. He does not care for these people, our people.” He kissed the child on the cheek and set her down. She raced off to join the others. “I may be the disgrace, but he…”. He shrugged. “Enough of that. I spend far too much time alone with the children. Where are my manners? Please, you must be frozen and starving. Come in, come in!” He gestured for them to follow him in, waving his arm. The children started tugging the rest of the Commandos forward.

  
“Wow, this place looks like it came out of a history book.” Steve walked along, staring at the tapestries, shields, weapons, and paintings on the walls. There were mounted animal heads, a large map of the region painted on one wall.

  
“It did.” Jacques laughed. “My family has owned it for centuries. We’ve made some improvements. We have gas tanks, and oil, though we mostly heat and cook with wood. We do have plumbing.” He clapped his hands, and an older man appeared. “Maurice, Captain Rogers and his men require rooms and baths. Please have Cook prepare a meal.”

Later that night, Steve walked out on a balcony to find Jacques staring out into the forest.

  
“I hope you end this war quickly, Captain. My brother will surely hang. I may as well, but at least I have kept the children alive.” He sighed. “It would be worth it for that alone.”

  
“I will make sure the right people know.” Steve moved closer to him, so close their shoulders nearly touched. “And I have no doubt those children will sing your praises.”

  
“My brother’s activities keep the Nazis from searching our home. And I will happily use his treachery to my advantage, and the advantage of these children.”

  
“You are a good man, Jacques.” Steve turned to look at him.

  
“Merde…” Jacques leaned over and kissed him. Steve lifted a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss and Jacques moaned quietly. “I hoped…”

  
“You were right.” Steve kissed him again. “Is there somewhere warmer and more private we can take this?”

  
“My chambers are upstairs.”  Jacques took his hand, and tugged him inside.

 

* * *

 

The plane hit turbulence, and Steve jolted out of his reverie. He looked at the article again. 100. Jacques had turned 100. Would he even remember?

 

They landed at De Gaulle, and Steve had his passport stamped with much oo-ing and ah-ing. The customs lead himself came out to welcome him to France. Another sleek black car took him to the Hotel Ritz, and he was informed that the Stark Suite was ready for him. Steve dropped off his dufflebag and took a shower, dressing carefully in slacks and the blue button up shirt Pepper always said brought out his eyes, before heading to the lobby to hail a cab to the offices of the French newspaper who had first published the photo. He got the name of the man who had organized the shoot and party, and he had been more than happy to tell Steve where to find Jacques.

  
It was a modest apartment in Montmartre. A nurse answered the door, and her eyes widened when she recognized Steve.

  
“He is sleeping, but if you would like to sit with him.” She gestured for Steve to come in.

  
She let Steve carry a chair over to the bed, and brought him a glass of wine and a small tray of cheese and sausage. “My grand-mother was one of the children in that chateau. She spoke of meeting you until the day she died. Thank you for helping to keep her safe.”

  
“That was all Jacques, ma’am.” Steve blushed. “I just made sure we engaged the Nazis as far from the chateau as we could.”

  
“He should wake up soon. He catnaps most of the time.” She smiled, and left the room. Steve settled himself in the chair and looked at Jacques. He could still see traces of the young man he’d returned to the chateau several times to see, each time bringing a case of chocolate bars for the children, and other supplies. The strong nose, the jaw, as in the picture. But in real life, he could see that his mouth still held the same shape, always on the verge of a smile. Steve blinked away tears again, and pulled a paperback book out of his pocket.

  
After about twenty minutes Jacques’s eyes opened, and he turned his head to see Steve sitting there.

  
“Stephen?” He blinked, eyes going wide. “You die… wait, no, the Americans found you. You came?”

  
“How could I not?” Steve moved to kneel next to the bed. “I found out you were still alive, of course I came.” He took one of Jacques’s hands and brought it to his lips.

  
“You saw that photograph.” Jacques frowned. “They insist on making a big deal of it.”

  
“Of course they do, you saved them, and their parents, their grandparents.” Steve smiled. “Let them celebrate what you did for them.”

  
“Stephen.” Jacques smiled. “You look as you did back then. And here I am.” He raised his other hand, gesturing at his own body.

  
“Still devastatingly handsome.” Steve leaned in to kiss him, touching his forehead to Jacques’s. “I was afraid to look, afraid everyone was dead and I was all alone.”

  
“I know, cher.” Jacques touched Steve’s cheek. “I understand. One day I looked around and it was only me, and the children, their children.” He smiled. “I cannot believe you are here. How long can you stay?”

  
“Until someone blows something up?” Steve shrugged. “Are you sure you’re ok with me being here?”

  
“If anything still worked, I’d invite you into this bed right now.” Jacques laughed.

  
“Being here is enough.” Steve smiled, and the threatening tears spilled over his cheeks.

  
“Don’t cry, cher. We have little enough time, too little to spend it in weeping.” Jacques struggled to sit up. “Help me up.”

  
“When have I heard that before?” Steve laughed, and wiped at his eyes before helping Jacques into a sitting position.

  
“After fucking me all night.” He spoke frankly, and Steve blushed.

  
“You are terrible.” Steve laughed again.

  
“That is what makes us so well-matched. I make up for all the good in you.” Jacques stretched. “I do require a cane now. Come, I will show you the neighborhood.”

 

Steve spent the next several days at Jacques’ apartment, sending for his dufflebag from the Ritz. He talked about coming back and suddenly being alone, and Jacques told him about watching everyone he’d ever know die one by one. Steve told him about the Ch’tauri, and Ultron, that Hydra had infiltrated the governments of the world, and the fallout. Jacques nodded.

  
“I have been following you in the news.” They sat on the balcony of the apartment, looking out over the square. “You have been busy.”

  
Jacques discussed his brother’s trial and execution. The debate in the government over whether or not he should be allowed to maintain the title and lands. The outcry from those he’d saved and whose children he’d saved. The rest of the Commandos had come forward, members of the Resistance. He’d been awarded a medal, and government pension.

  
“Technically I am not the Duc de Lorraine any more. I abdicated to a younger cousin. I’m too old, the chateau and castle are drafty, and I like the theater.”

A few nights later, Steve lay next to Jacques in his bed, cuddled up to one another.

  
“I am glad you found me, Stephen. Then and now. Not a day has gone by I did not think of you.” Jacques took his hand.

  
“I have thought about you often since I woke up, but… I would say I was busy, but I was afraid to find you gone.” Steve smiled, watching Jacques’s face.

  
“You are going to have to move on, Stephen. I am, it won’t be long. And I want to know that you will find someone else to make you happy.”

  
“Jacques…” The smile faltered on Steve’s face.

  
“Stephen, I am one hundred years old.” Jacques sighed. “You are still a young man. Find someone who makes you smile like I did. Promise me. I will not have you spend the rest of your life mourning me.”

  
“I promise. Although, I don’t know that anyone could make me smile like you do, Jacques.” Steve leaned over to kiss him. “I promise.”

  
“You had best keep that promise, or I will haunt you.” Jacques smiled. “I cannot bear the thought of you living in sorrow. Find joy, cher.”

  
“I will.”

 

The next day, the nurse arrived to find Steve weeping and holding Jacques’s body in his arms.

 

“The Duc de Lorraine was buried today in the family cemetery near the Chateau where he sheltered the children of Jewish families and Resistance fighters, and first met Captain Steven Rogers during WWII. The Captain and his Howling Commandos helped smuggle supplies to the Duc and the hidden children. The Captain and many other dignitaries were present for the Duc’s burial…”

 

“Jacques wanted you to have this.” The current Duc de Lorraine walked up to Steve, who stood on the balcony looking out over the forest, where Jacques had kissed him a lifetime ago. The young man pressed a velvet box into Steve’s hand. He opened it. A Legion of Honor medal, and a signet ring with the Lorraine coat of arms. “He told me. We were always close, since my parents did not have time for me. He loved you very much.” The young man, Philippe, smiled. “I am glad you had those last days with him.”

  
“Philippe, I can’t…” Steve looked up from the box.  "These are family heirlooms." 

  
“You can. He wanted you to have them. Trust me. We talked a little that last week, on the telephone. He knew your French was still terrible and he could speak freely in front of you. Please, take them.” Philippe smiled. “He also said to remind you of your promise to him.”

  
“He would.” Steve smiled, looking down at the medal and the ring. “Thank you.”

  
“Thank you, Captain Rogers. You helped my uncle save those children. And you made him very happy.” Philippe kissed Steve on both cheeks, then went back inside. Steve closed the box, and tucked it into a pocket in his suit jacket, before looking back out over the forest again.

**Author's Note:**

> I do have more about these two, but I don't know if I'll post it. If I do, it'll be as edits to this, rather than new chapters.


End file.
